Page 39 of Caroline Saves the Blacksmith
“And why do you think so many days are about birds, but not the fifth day?”
She shrugged. “They say perhaps the gold rings are gold ring-necked pheasants. I have not personally seen one, but they are quite colorful from what I am told.”
Annie nodded, her attention flitting away to light on a different subject as children were wont to do.
“We had a wonderful Christmas feast. Mr. Andrews joined us after closing his shop, and Mum made you some black butter.” Annie placed a little pot on the table. Caroline picked it up and opened it to look inside at the fruit paste, sniffing the distinctive scent with pleasure.
“Tell your mum thank you. I shall buy some fresh bread to eat it with!”
Annie nodded before collecting her apron and tying it on. “I think Mr. Andrews is sweet on Mum. He has invited us to go wassailing on Twelfth Night.”
Caroline gritted her teeth in exasperation. Fantastic! Mrs. Greer would secure a new husband, whereas Caroline would remain alone forever while a perfectly good man lay, rejected, on his settee down the street. Not just any man—William. She missed him something fierce since leaving his home.
Have I made the right decision?
Realizing she had not responded to Annie’s announcement, she forced a cheery tone and asked the important question. “How do you feel about that?”
Annie stopped to consider her answer, her little face pensive. “I think Mr. Andrews is a jolly man. And he makes excellent food, so I suppose it would be all right if he courts Mum.”
Caroline chuckled, the first time she had been inclined to do so all day. “Excellent food will always be acceptable.”
Annie grinned back. “I shall fetch your bread for you if you like. Mr. Andrews might be inclined to give me a Sally Lunn bun if I visit his shop.”
“Then I have no choice. I shall have to allow you to run the errand for me. Tell Mr. Andrews to put it on my account.”
“Shall I sweep the front?”
“Yes. I want to work on my walking dress, and I expect little custom today. When you finish in the front, you can come sit with me and I will show you what I am doing.”
The girl nodded and walked through the workroom door before racing back with a worried expression. “Mrs. Brown! Some of the Christmas boughs are missing!”
A nervous agitation tightened her stomach as Caroline realized she had forgotten to bring back the boughs. After the abrupt end to her day with William, she had simply left without them. “I … gave them to someone who needed them more than me.” She needed to distract Annie before she asked any further questions. “Did you complete the handkerchief you were sewing?”
The girl looked down, her expression guilty as she mumbled her response. “No … I was too busy helping Mum make the Christmas boughs.”
“You can join me when you are done sweeping and finish it then.”
Annie brightened up. It had been a shameful manipulation on Caroline’s part in an effort to change the subject, but it would not do to have anyone asking questions about how she had spent Christmas.
* * *
William had convincedDr. Hadley that he was recovered enough to be back on his feet. The doctor had bound his ankle, cautioning him to be careful and not over-exert himself, but had concurred that the sprain was not as severe as it had appeared on Christmas Eve.
Then he had requested to use the doctor’s carriage, to which the doctor had also agreed, but they had haggled for some time. Dr. Hadley had not wanted to charge him for the favor, while William had insisted that he must pay a rental fee. Eventually, they had struck a mutually agreeable bargain, and the doctor had left to order his carriage be readied.
Saint Stephen’s Day was the perfect time to call on a lady of means. It was a day of charity, and well-to-do households opened their doors to their community. William was going to take advantage of the festive traditions to assist Caroline.
He was committed to helping her heal, because she had helped him to heal. She had brought much-needed comfort to him, freed him from the traumatic day at the Hougoumont farmhouse, and he could not let her down.
Eventually she would forgive him, he hoped, for his clumsy interference in her life—if he succeeded in his quest.
William washed up in haste, but took his time with his attire. He donned a pristine white shirt before pulling on his finest stockings and best breeches, the ones reserved for church and special occasions. Then he polished his buckled shoes, grimacing at the thought of wearing them, but they were the only ones he could. Not only were they more elegant than his boots, but he could not get a boot on with his ankle bandaged.
Then he tied a cravat, donned a navy wool tailcoat, and finally collected his hat. It was imperative that he be well-received where he was going. As much as he disliked dressing formally, he would do whatever it took to bring about Caroline’s cessation from her suffering.
* * *
Caroline workedon the walking dress she had spent so many months on, but it did not bring solace. Her magical holiday interlude was done. Nothing more than a memory to hold dear. She feared she had greatly disappointed the blacksmith, and the more she thought about it, the less sense it made to have walked away.
